


Say It; Don't Talk.

by OWASephiroth



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII Remake - Fandom
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OWASephiroth/pseuds/OWASephiroth
Summary: What happens when two people of few words get together?Note: Based on a private conversation with a RP partner. This work did not have a beta, and has not been revised.
Relationships: Rude/Tseng, Rude/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Rude/Tseng (Final Fantasy VII), Tseng/Rude, Tseng/Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Tseng/Rude (Final Fantasy VII)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Say It; Don't Talk.

* * *

Tseng was a man of few words.

Rude was a man of _fewer_ words. 

Their trysts were full of passion, there was no doubt about that. Tseng could feel it from the way Rude wound his hand through his locks gently yet possessively. Rude could feel it from the way Tseng clawed at him, frequently drawing blood as if the Wutaian wanted to mark Rude as his own. 

What was lacking were verbal affirmations. It was necessary for them to keep things quiet, naturally, given the illicit nature of their relationship. Tseng would drop the vaguest of hints here and there, which Rude would collect and hold close in his pocket, right next to his shades. Rude would say even less, but he made up for it with his actions. Fresh coffee in the mornings (and nights). Making Tseng’s pleasure his number one priority, even at the expanse of his own. Being loyal, dependable, indispensable. Rude thought what he was doing was sufficient, and perhaps it was...

Until one evening. 

Tseng and Rude were cooped up in the Turk office, untangling an abysmal mess of paperwork and planning. The clock struck midnight, and Rude could see that Tseng was nearing his limit. Rude pushed Tseng towards the sofa. As he was removing Tseng’s jacket, however, he sensed a tension within the latter that was not at all typical. Tseng was not just tired and irritable, he was downright exhausted and frustrated beyond description. Tseng’s resolve wavered as Rude was once again silent and impassive as pulled Tseng’s jacket off from his aching body. 

“Rude.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want this? Or are you just doing it because _I_ want it?”

“Does it matter, Sir?” 

Rude had intended his response to be sassy, in an attempt to lighten up the mood and get Tseng to relax. It was also the truth, for him. What Tseng wanted, Rude would want. But that was not what Tseng heard. Tseng interpreted Rude’s response in the worst way possible, because that was what Tseng feared the most deep within. That Rude was only fulfilling a duty, an obligation; that Rude was just _doing the job_. What that all he was to Rude, then? Tseng was blinded by hurt, and he pushed Rude away violently. He stomped out of the office without a word nor backward glance, leaving even his jacket behind. Tseng stumbled into the elevator and sunk to his knees when the doors closed. He buried his face into his hands, unable to stop hot tears from spilling forth.

“Fuck, of course it matters to me, Rude,” Tseng whispered into the silence. 

Rude has found out, perhaps too late, that he needed to vocalise his emotions to Tseng. That Rude’s actions were not enough. That Tseng wanted, perhaps even needed, to hear him say it too. But how could he? What words could be used to describe the depth and complexity of his feelings towards Tseng? Of what Tseng meant to him? He tried; he really did, many, many times. But all of his words sounded inadequate, even hollow. And so Rude’s confessions were whispered out of Tseng’s hearing, into empty rooms after Tseng had left. Into Rude’s pillow in the middle of the night. About how Rude did want Tseng. Every time, all the time. That Rude’s greatest desire was to hear the bearer of his soul scream when they were together. Even if that were to happen only once, Rude would cherish that moment forever.

Rude despaired. With each passing day, Tseng was pulling further and further away from him. Tseng remained professional, of course; that was one of the things Rude admired most about him, something Rude sought so hard to emulate. But there had been no more clandestine meetings. No more signals that Tseng was holding Rude in his thoughts. Nothing. Rude thought it was too late. 

Until one other evening. 

Rude had accompanied Tseng on a mission. It was a dangerous one, and Tseng chose his most stalwart companion as usual. Rude was grateful. If he could have nothing more, at least he could continue to be beside Tseng, keeping his leader safe, helping his leader succeed. When the enemy fired at Tseng's back, Rude didn’t even have to think. His soul decided and his body reacted accordingly. Rude threw himself in front of Tseng, taking the bullet meant for the Wutaian. He sank to his knees as Tseng made short work of the enemy. Tseng would be safe now, that was the most important thing. He wanted to tell Tseng that, but he could not. He physically could not - blood was filling his mouth and he was struggling to breathe. 

Tseng pushed Rude to the ground. He ripped off his jacket to use to stop the blood from pouring out of Rude. He fumbled frantically, trying to pinpoint the spot that would cut off the blood supply to the wound. His forehead broke out in cold sweat and he went pale around the mouth. Tseng had radioed to the others, but he knew they were far away from backup. And Rude was losing a lot of blood. Perhaps too much. 

“Sir.”

“Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

“Sir.”

“I _said_ don’t talk.”

Rude would not usually defy Tseng’s orders, but he knew this was not a usual situation. He could see the sense of desperation on Tseng’s face. He was choking on his own blood. His eyesight was already failing. He did not want to go without saying the words that Tseng wanted to hear. Don’t worry, he would do his job. 

“Tseng, I do. I do want you... too.”

Rude would not hear Tseng screaming. 

* * *


End file.
